


Kisses Are Quite Metal

by transoffdensen



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol, Ficlet Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, fictional kiss prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transoffdensen/pseuds/transoffdensen
Summary: A collection of ficlets, varying in pairings, originally written as requests from a Fictional Kiss Prompt post on tumblr.





	1. Narlie #1

**Author's Note:**

> I specifically asked for people to send me MTL ships on tumblr so I could write out all this wholesome gay shit for y'all  
> (I'll keep posting them every time I write a new one)

  1. _kisses where one person is sitting on the other’s lap_



(note: "Bonus points if it's Charles' lap")

*  *  *

It had been at least 5 minutes since the larger man plopped down on his manager’s lap, as if he were merely a human chair, refusing to allow the shorter individual underneath him to get up and leave. Nathan wanted attention—and Nathan gets what he wants, when he wants it. Charles, on the other hand, had work to do, but the front man was not allowing this to happen. Of course, the band manager could easily lift and drop him onto the floor in a blink if he wanted to, but he’s found himself unable to deny his partner’s vaguely child-like attitude.

“Do you ah, plan on moving any time soon…?”

Nathan snorted, still scrolling through some app on his Dethphone, and rolled his shoulders before adjusting his seating, causing the man beneath him to wince slightly. “I told you I wanna spend time with you, asshole.”

Charles sighed, beginning to lose feeling in his legs. “Well, I can’t properly give you any ah, any attention if you’re just… staring at your phone.” This elicited another snort, and finally Nathan shifted his legs, awkwardly bringing one large knee up to cross it over in front of the other’s chest and plant his foot back down on the ground. They were facing each other now.

Looking up at him, Charles blinked over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows raised. “Well? What can I do for you…?” Nathan frowned—which he did often, but, this was different. It was more of a pout, than anything. It made him smile a little, and he reached up to push some of the other’s hair out of his face. “I have emails to send out, Nathan… You ah, you know that. I can’t sit here all day. And, you ah, you have some recording to get done, if you don’t- don’t recall. I can pal around la—” He was immediately cut off by lips being pressed against his own, and his shoulders tensed from the suddenness of the move. But he leaned up into it, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor everything about the other man.

They stayed that way for at least a minute. Charles moved a hand onto Nathan’s chest as his other hand entwined with larger fingers. For once, there was an air of peace in Mordhaus—or, in the conference room, at least.

A sense of disappointment flooded his mind when they parted, looking back up at the other. Nathan was smiling now.

“You talk too much some times.”

Charles let out a small laugh through his nose, feeling the blood rush back into his thighs as the singer finally stood. He adjusted his tie, taking a moment to stand up after the other. “Well I ah, apologize, Nathan. Now… would you like to accompany me to my office?” He squeezed the other’s hand with his own, their fingers still laced. “I believe my ah, my emails can wait just a while longer.”


	2. Chickles #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was requested by my good friend Dylan (prussianborn @ ao3, ender-the-intern @ tumblr)

  1. _lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up_



*   *   *

6AM.

Charles’ internal clock went off at the same time every morning, despite what the previous night had entailed. In this particular instance, the previous night had included a bar, lots and lots of alcohol, and… hm. The manager barely cracked open an eye to glance at his surroundings, squinting lightly as his head spun. It seems they had wound up in Pickles’ room this time.

Shutting his eye again, he nudged his head under the pillow. This would be dealt with when he officially woke up later. But not now. Not with this hangover, and the lingering relief that he didn’t have as much paperwork as usual to deal with today.

Only a half hour had passed before the brunette awoke once more, rolling over to lay on his stomach. His brain _really_ wanted him to get up—his body said otherwise. Shifting, he felt the warmth of another being next to him and exhaled gently, moving a hand from under the covers to reach out and brush against an arm next to his face.

“… Mm.. mornin’, Chief…” Came the slurred response from the band drummer, and Charles smiled in the darkness of the room. “Don’t… don’t make me— _wake_ , wake me up…” It sounded almost as if Pickles was still a bit drunk, which wouldn’t surprise him. If he had to be honest, he didn’t want to be awake yet, either. Nothing had changed about how Charles felt since he first stirred, and thinking about getting out of bed only made him feel worse. So he remained still, except for gingerly dragging the tips of his fingers along what he knew to be freckled skin.

Pickles shifted this time, mumbling something under his breath. So he moved closer, resting his forehead against the other’s as they lay side by side. “I ah… couldn’t hear you…” His own voice was just a murmur, now only an inch away from the drummer’s face. The red-head groaned, his breath reeking of any and all kinds of drinks imaginable, creating a very interesting morning breath cocktail, to say the least.

“… Said… feels good…”

 Letting out the ghost of a laugh, Charles moved his hand further up and towards Pickles’ shoulder, continuing to swirl light patterns against his skin. Neither of them had yet to open their eyes, taking as much time as needed to keep this feeling of warmth and closeness alive. The mutual hangovers helped too, of course. A few moments went on and the manager let his hand rest against the scruffy face of the man he’d come to know almost as well as himself, stroking his thumb against the messy patch of goatee. It was amazing, really. Charles Offdensen had never expected to develop feelings this deep for someone—nonetheless the drummer of the band he managed. But they actually had plenty in common, when it came down to it. And so, moments like this were highly appreciated, especially during the calm hours of the morning when the other band members were asleep as well.

Continuing to stroke the other’s cheek, Charles let out a heavy sigh, knowing that he would have to leave much earlier than desired. So he made his move and craned his neck, blindly brushing their lips together. It took Pickles a moment to reciprocate, being mostly still asleep. The act was gentle, as a lot of their interactions as a couple were, and Charles smiled into it. He kept them that way for a while before parting, moving to leave a trail of sleepy kisses up the side of the other’s face, and eventually planting one square against the top of his head where- when Pickles was awake- there were typically dreads placed.

The shorter man made some kind of mumbled coo, clearly appreciating the gestures but remained too groggy to do much about it. Charles moved back to where he had been laying before, pushing his face into the pillow. Eventually he would pull himself out of this slump, get a cup of black coffee and some migraine pills, and head to his office for his usual daily duties.

But for now, his hand remained on Pickles’ cheek, thumb strokes slowly dying down until they eventually came to a halt, when he dozed back off into the familiar and comforting scent of his lover.


	3. Narlie #2

  1. _lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up_



*   *   *

He had grown accustomed to waking up next to Nathan every now and then, either having gone to bed with him the night before or feeling the singer crawl under the sheets next to him well after he had gone to bed before the band. But Charles noticed, as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, that it started to become much more frequent. He didn’t mind, really, as it was a nice change from waking up alone every morning, as he had for nearly the past 20 or so years of his life. And he especially enjoyed the fact that it was with someone who reciprocated his feelings, for once.

On this particular morning, however, Charles appreciated the feeling way more than usual. Dethklok had been on vacation—one of which their manager had stayed behind from—and it had been nearly two weeks since he’d rolled over to Nathan snoring (surprisingly) gently next to his ear.

As the sun began to peek through the drapes of his private bedroom, Charles turned his head away to avoid any light getting into his eyes before he was ready to inevitably face the day. He startled slightly as his cheek brushed against a long lock of hair that most definitely did not belong to him, but he didn’t have to open his eyes to know that it was his tentatively-so-called-‘partner’, finally back from whichever exclusive island retreat they had been off to. Sighing gently, he inched closer to Nathan, letting his head rest just below the larger man’s chin.

“… morning.” Came a grumbled whisper, which only had Charles pushing his head up against the other’s jawline in a silent response. Now he _really_ didn’t want to get out of his bed any time soon. One heavy arm moved over him, sluggishly pulling them closer together. “Missed you…”

His chest felt warm, and he smiled. “I… ah, missed you, too…” He muttered back, gently nudging a leg between Nathan’s as if attempting to entwine as much of their bodies together as he could. The singer sighed contentedly, almost nuzzling his chin against the top of the shorter man’s head, which tilted upwards after the fact. “Did you, ah… have fun?” Charles whispered the question, knowing very well that the other could easily have a hangover of sorts. Nathan grunted with a nod, but pushed his chin down against his skull once more.

“Too early… too much talking…”

 Charles gently shook his head, wrapping his arm up and around the other. “That’s fair…”

 They remained like this for a short while before the smaller of the duo shifted, twisting his head so he could peek with squinted blurry eyes at the clock on his night stand. He had to _actually_ get up soon, despite every fiber of his being simply wanting to stay in this space forever, if he could. He moved his head back to where it had been comfortably fit underneath the metal god’s chin. “Nathan…”

The singer grunted once again, following with, “I know.”

“But… I suppose we can… enjoy this for a, a while longer…” He trailed off, placing a small kiss against the other’s collar bone.

As a response to this, the front man tilted his head down and planted a firm yet loving kiss on the uncharacteristically unkempt hair of the man that was his manager, lawyer, friend… his lover. Nathan had been in heavy relationships before, but this one felt like it actually had meaning to it. Like it was meant to be.

When Charles felt the innocence of this act, he pushed his head gently upwards into it, exhaling quietly and deeply. As if any and all worry had left his body with that very breath, he felt himself drifting back into sleep with the other, for once not taking note of the time. He could always move some things around on his schedule if he really had to, and at the moment, after finally feeling his body fully relax after two long weeks—longer than he had ever expected them to feel—he considered moving the entire schedule of the day to tomorrow’s date.


	4. Magnus/Pickles #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this turned out way longer than planned for a ficlet, but it was requested by my best friend and practically ‘brother’ so I went a bit apeshit on it ✌

_10\. staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in_

*   *   *

Band practice had run late, as per usual. Murderface decided to go out and head off to the corner store for some food, Nathan took this time to step out of their practice area for a few beats to get some air, and Skwisgaar dozed off momentarily on the couch in the midst of idly strumming at his guitar. At the drums sat Pickles, wincing as he stretched his neck and rolled shoulders. The ex-glam rocker stood and did another stretch, touching the tips of his shoes, before moving over to a mini fridge to pull out a small bottle of vodka, tipping it back as fast as a shot. He assumed they wouldn’t be continuing much later after William got back.

Across the room sat Magnus, sitting where their lead singer typically resided while they worked on tuning and set up. He was looking in the direction of the drummer, his eyes following every movement. He had always admired the other man, following the rise and fall of Snakes ‘N’ Barrels and now being in vague awe to actually work with him. But, to not be the lead singer? It was a shame. His voice was so nice, melodic—nearly hypnotizing to watch him sing on stage, as Magnus had done many a time. The man would practically make love to the microphone, and he could never seemed to look away.

Glancing to his side, Pickles’ brow quirked, feeling eyes on him from the only other conscious person in the room. “What’s wrong?” He started, turning to lean back against the mini fridge. “Did I fuck up again? Not the right tune for ya?” It wasn’t that they didn’t get along, moreso that the drummer didn’t know when to not push buttons.

Magnus huffed, gritting his teeth before looking down at the dirty floor of the Motel they bought out as their so-called ‘Mordhaus.’ What a stupid name—Nathan came up with it, and of course they all agreed on it. Who could say otherwise to the hulking man. “No. You were fine.” He finally responded. The other was still looking back at him, but he had gotten himself another vodka shot. “Just... nothing else to really look at.”

That wasn’t really the case. There was plenty to look at, but all he could notice right now was the sheen of alcohol on the other’s lips. So he stayed focused on the carpet fibers, curly hair hanging down just in his line of own vision.

He swallowed.

“Well, okay ‘den.” Pickles shot back the drink, making a small grunt at the burn, and he smiled. “You want some? Skwisgaar’s passed out, I don’t think we’re gonna be busy too much longer.”

The guitarist blinked when two sneakers stepped into his view. Raising his chin, he looked up at the redhead, taking note that the smaller man was now holding two bottle shots this time. “Huh. Sure.” He reached up and took one as it was offered, nodding a silent ‘cheers’ with the drummer before they both knocked them back. Dropping the plastic bottle on the floor, Magnus shook his head as he looked back up at the other.

There it was again—alcohol slowly dripping off of his lips. Before he could process his own actions, Magnus was standing, staring down at the other as their chests were now nearly inches apart. Pickles met his stare, or rather, tried to- before realizing they weren’t exactly making eye contact. He smiled, and licked his lips.

Tease.

“What’s up, chief?” He questioned, tilting his head up at a better angle. These interactions were nothing new between the two of them, most especially when none of the other band mates were present—and it didn’t help that they were both incredibly impulsive people. Magnus didn’t answer him. He could only hear his heart pounding in his ears, eyes hyperfixated on the lopsided smirk that adorned the other’s features. Since the band had taken their pause, Pickles was all he cold focus on for the past ten or so minutes. It was driving him mad... it had been too long, in his opinion, since their last close encounter

Before Pickles could blink, the taller man had pushed forward, shoving him against the wall. Green eyes darted to the side, taking note of the lead guitarist still slumbering on the couch, when he felt warmth envelope his mouth. Magnus groaned against his lips, and Pickles accepted it, pushing his tongue out first against the other’s that seemed ever-so eager to reciprocate. The drummer’s eyes closed, taking in the mixed flavors of vodka now swirling among his senses, lacing his arms around the taller man’s waist.

Magnus moaned, pushing his body flat against the other’s. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, letting them shift between Pickles’ sides, his neck or his ass. He felt his bottom lip be playfully nipped, and so he nipped back. Everything felt hot, and his head spun as he finally found a resting place for one of his hands, bringing it up against the back of the drummer’s neck. His fingers pressed firmly, forcing their mouths closer together, and if he could he would have melded them together forever like this.

The knowledge of possibly being walked in on didn’t seem to hinder the intimacy they were sharing, until they both froze at the sound of a chain rattling, a signal of the main door being opened. One of two people had finally returned, and they unwillingly parted, the slightest bit of saliva and heavy panting being the only remaining evidence of their crimes together.

Pickles laughed under his breath, gently shoving Magnus away from him. “We can’t keep doin’ this...” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist band with a small smile. There was just enough time for Magnus to take a seat before both the singer and bassist re-entered the room. Magnus knew it was all so risky—but he was never one to give up what he wanted.


End file.
